Ranger
by Night Fury the Black
Summary: The Skrill have returned to the Heartland. They come not to conquer it, but to burn it. The Dwemor and Ankiir bicker as if no threat exists. Oh, how very wrong we are.


**Please note that all dragon characters in this story are anthropomorphic, and can speak aloud. So, if you don't like stories like that, you probably don't want to read this. **

**Alright, first real chapter, so, here we go!**

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As the last remnants of daylight sinked under the horizon, the first sight of the coastline became visible to his eyes.

He and the others had spent months on this damn ship, sailing. Waiting for the smell of sea to extinguish, and the smell of sand to become clear. Waiting for their boots to hit soft ground, and not wooden decks. Waiting for the first signs of that dreaded land.

And now, on the eve of what would be the fifth month, their prayers had been answered. The coast, while a good mile or two away, looked as if it was within their hands' grasps. The Sun's final light showed on the tan sands like amber on a tree. The lights of torches in a village lit up in a nearby hill. The perfect spot for a first raid.

"Land ho!"

The shout came from the ship to his left. It was followed by a chorus of many roars throughout the entire fleet. Warriors banged weapons on shields alongside them.

As he let out his own roar of both relief and triumph, a much larger warrior pushed him aside. Fumbling for his ax, he gave a grunt of annoyance as the warrior stood up on the pew of the boat and faced the crew.

"Skrill!" He yelled out, calling for a silence.

The boat instantly became quiet after a final grunt of pride from the warriors. The leader scanned his crew shortly before speaking once again.

"The Land of the Ankiir is upon us! Our patience has finally rewarded us!" He briefly stopped to allow the crew to give some nods and grunts of approval, "They shamed our ancestors centuries ago! We've just came to repay the favor..."

"Aye, Captain!" A few of them shouted.

A smirk came upon the Captain's scaly face as he let out a roar, his crew shouting alongside it. Throughout the fleet, the other Captains were giving their own men similar short speeches, and the dusk of the day was filled with roars of pride from the Skrill.

Lending his own shout into the chorus, the Skrill warrior gripped his ax firmly as he raised it high into the air. In just a few short minutes, he and his many comrades would be on the very same shore that their ancestors had come to so long ago.

These minutes went by fast, as soon enough, the bow of the ships reached the shoreline. Thousands upon thousands of Skrill emerged from the ships, quickly covering the entire beachfront.

Organization wasn't key to the army's power, but the vast numbers surely made up for that. The Skrill all let out one final roar of triumph, before each Captain silenced their battalions.

The warrior eagerly awaited to advance further into the land, longing to taste the blood of battle. As did many others within the army, but yet, they remained on the beach.

"Await the Chieftan's order!"

Captains everywhere shouted it to silence their restless men, and the warrior's own was no exception.

"No Ankiir is to be harmed until we are allowed to attack."

"What about that village up on the hill?" He asked defiantly, "What if someone sees us all waiting down here?"

The Captain did not take kindly to the retort, "We will attack when Chief Barst allows us to, Jormun." He promptly spat in the smaller warrior's face before returning to addressing his troops.

Ignoring the Captain's disrespectful gesture towards him, Jormun stayed silent afterwards. The Captains' addresses continued until the banging of drums sounded the approach of the Chieftan.

The heavy footsteps sounded as they left the ship, and a large Skrill stepped onto the beach. His very presence was enough to silence the army, and his demeanor was enough to keep it that way.

Chieftan Barst's eyes ran over his army, staring like daggers into any that dared look back into them. Folding his arms across his chest, he let out a small chuckle, before addressing the army.

"Gentlemen...you all know well the stories our grandfathers told us as hatchlings. How the Ankiir drove our ancestors from their rightfully claimed lands. Well, I'm here today to lead you into a new age. With new lands and opportunities...new foes to conquer. Today, we not only avenge our forefathers...we craft a legacy for our descendants. One that no warrior, army, city or magic can destroy. So, with these last words of encouragement, I grant you the rights to slay any and every Ankiir you see."

Triumphant and eager yells came from the men as Barst allowed a smile on his face. "Gentlemen...burn the village...and the whole damn nation with it."

The Skrill let out battle cries as they charged. A mass of dragons pummeled up the hill, all eager for Ankiir blood on their blades and hammers.

And as the night came upon the land, the roars of Skrill and screams of dying Ankiir filled the air.

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**Yeah, still not very long, but, hey, at least it's an actual chapter. Plus, it's a prologue. Actual chapters I'm going to try to aim around 2,000 words a piece _at least._ But, anyway, what'd you guys think about it? I think it's rushed, but, hey, I'd love to hear you guys' opinions!****  
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**Oh, and yes, the Skrill are from another franchise. First to name it gets a free Internet cookie!**


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